


heirloom

by eg1701



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Angst, Mr. Hirsch's A+ Parenting, Self-Esteem Issues, i'm just gonna use that tag so much it is forced to become a common one, like married established, pre kid fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28584855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eg1701/pseuds/eg1701
Summary: Over dinner, Tom's mother brings up children. When he brings the topic up to Greg, it doesn't go over well, and Tom needs to know why.Or Tom and Greg face the idea and maybe the reality of parenthood.
Relationships: Greg Hirsch/Tom Wambsgans
Comments: 14
Kudos: 35





	heirloom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thehungagayums (wambsgangs)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wambsgangs/gifts).



> inspired by [ @wambsgangs](https://wambsgangs.tumblr.com) post on the tumblrs about tom and greg having the kid talk and greg dealing with his feelings on his father about the whole thing
> 
> i've already decided that greg's dad is terrible on 0 evidence so i'm just continuing with that theme. 
> 
> title after the sleeping at last song of the same now found [here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=auOivVnhI00) bc i think it has Similar Energy to this

“So when,” Evelyn Wambsgans asked, folding her hands on the table, “am I going to get grandchildren?”

Both his parents looked at him from across the table, and although he was glad they had waited until Greg got up to go to the bathroom, he was still deeply uncomfortable with this. And it was his own fault. He and Greg had never discussed children before getting married. Tom knew it was one of those things you were meant to have done before you tied the knot but there had been so much… _else_ that it had never been brought up. 

He and Shiv had the conversation before they were even engaged, but Tom had never been entirely clear on whether or not she wanted kids. Yes, he _thought_ but when her career was, as she put it, much more established, and he didn’t know what that meant, and if she did, she never elaborated. Tom was willing to wait for her to be ready. He would tell people that yes, he wanted kids, just not now.

But Greg was unclear. A lot was unclear with Greg, though Tom was leaning to read what was going on inside his head, compared to the generally dumbass look on his face. But this was brand new territory. 

He was good with Tom’s cousin’s babies and kids whenever Tom brought him home to St. Paul. He held any baby that was placed in his arms, listened to little kid ramblings for as long as they went, and played video games for four straight hours with Tom’s eldest cousin’s son at Thanksgiving last year. 

It gave the impression that he liked children. But those were _other people’s_ children. That was not the same thing. Tom had thought about bringing it up after some of the family holidays, but he’d never had the guts to. 

“Oh I don’t know,” Tom poked at his salad with his fork. Goddamn them for cornering him while they were out to eat, where there was no easy escape, “We just got married Mom, it hasn’t even been much more than a year. When do you stop being newlyweds? You said before it’s good to establish yourself before you have children.”

“You would make a _good_ dad Tommy,” Evelyn reached over and covered his hand with her own. Tom put down his fork, suddenly not very hungry. Greg would finish it though, if Tom offered it, “You’ve always been good with children.”

“I’d definitely want kids. Definitely,” he said, “But we haven’t properly discussed it.”

Tom was saved from whatever she was going to say by Greg returning. And, like he thought, when Tom pushed his salad in front of Greg, it got eaten. And Greg shot him several concerned looks-- Tom’s own feelings were evidently clear on his face-- but Tom squeezed his hand under the table and hoped that would be enough to reassure him.

***

There was something to be said for the fact that whenever Tom came home to visit, he had to sleep in his childhood bedroom. A lot of it had remained the same, though his mother’s office had spread out into the room sometime after he moved away for college There had to be some reason that they were always relegated to this bedroom, instead of the lovely guest room that his parents had. Tom thought it was his mother’s way of making sure they behaved under her roof. Regardless, it didn’t feel like the right setting for this conversation, but it was the only setting they had.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Tom asked. He leaned against the dresser and paused unbuttoning his shirt. Greg, who was digging around in the suitcase, looked up in answer, “My mom asked me if we were going to have kids.”

“When?”

“At dinner. When you went to the bathroom.”

“Oh.”

“And I think we probably should have talked about it sooner,” Tom said. Greg practically begged him to talk about what he was feeling when he was feeling it, and not stew on things like he was wont to do. But he thought that this wasn’t what he meant, because Greg looked like a deer in the fucking headlights about the whole thing, “But we didn’t. So now we can.”

“Do you want to have kids?” Greg asked. 

“Do you?”

“I get to have the answer first because I asked first. That’s the law actually.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “You don’t know shit about the _law_ Greg.”

“Yeah but like, on principle, you have to answer first.”

_Yes,_ Tom thought, _yes I want to have kids with you and live in a little fucking house with a white picket fence where we both work a nine to five jobs and I’m on the fucking PTA and am an absolute asshole to the parents I don’t like and you suck at helping the kid with math homework but you try anyway because the kid prefers your help. You have no idea how fucking bad I want a normal life with you._

But what he _said_ was, “It might be nice.”

Greg made a face, and Tom immediately knew they were not going to agree on this. 

“I never thought about having kids,” Greg said. 

“You never thought about getting married either till you and I got together,” Tom said, feeling kind of stupid. Who’s fault was it, that they never thought to talk about this earlier? Greg had just as much right to _not_ want children, as Tom had to _want_ children. It was something couples had to reconcile, “Why not, though?”

Greg shrugged, “I just, like, didn’t think about it. I guess, like, everything with my parents I don’t like, want to.”

“We don’t have to talk about this anymore,” Tom said softly. It was clear Greg was growing more and more uncomfortable with the topic, and Tom didn’t want to upset him. Especially when they were out of town, and his parents were downstairs. Besides, Tom never felt good when he made Greg upset, because Greg just fucking _let_ him and never said anything until it got too much, “You want to take a shower first?”

“Sure,” Greg piled his pajamas into his arms, stopped by to kiss Tom on the cheek, and slipped into the bathroom.

Tom waited for him to come back, and then took his own shower without so much as two words between them. Greg was already in bed when he got back out, and the lights in the room were off. He knew Greg wasn’t asleep, because Greg didn’t ever sleep on his stomach, but it was evident he was pretending so he didn’t have to talk anymore. It was a tactic he’d learned from Tom long ago. 

Deciding to play along, Tom kissed the top of his head, and settled down to pretend to sleep too, his back pressed against Greg’s side.

***

They existed in a strange limbo for the next two days. Tom’s parents detected nothing wrong with Greg, because, Tom knew, Greg was good at hiding things. Especially when he didn’t want people to ask too many questions, but when they were alone he was almost distant, and seemed to brace himself every time Tom opened his mouth. He was worried Tom was going to ask the question again, but Tom wasn’t that cruel. It was clear he couldn’t bare the discussion, and Tom wasn’t going to torture him about it.

The conversation would have to be had. 

Tom couldn’t stand this distance between them. It felt too much like the later days with Shiv, felt like it was only going to get worse. And he was not willing to let that happen. He had promised himself, promised Greg, that this was going to work. It had to work. He didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t.

He was terrified of leaving Greg along with his mother, lest she bring the topic up to him. Sure, Greg could probably play it off with a vague and very non committal answer, but if he was already upset, he didn’t want Evelyn to inadvertently make it worse. She wouldn’t want that either. 

She _adored_ Greg. Tom was fairly certain that she had loved Shiv too. Really, as long as Tom was happy, she’d have played nice, but there was something about the way she adored Greg that almost made Tom think that she had a favorite she would never reveal.

“We should talk about this,” Tom said firmly one morning. It was just after seven, his parents were both in bed, and Greg, who had not slept much the past nights, was on his second cup of coffee, “I clearly upset you. And I’m sorry. But don’t- don’t pull away from me like this. You tell me not to do it, so don’t do it yourself. It’s driving me up the fucking wall.”

Greg set the mug down, “I’m not mad at you.”

“That’s great,” Tom said, waving his hand, “but we should talk about this anyway.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Greg said, which didn’t really make a lot of sense. Tom was the one who went on morning runs. Greg, especially on the weekends, could be found still in pajamas well into the afternoon sometimes. But Tom wasn’t going to argue, so he told Greg he’d dress and meet him in the driveway in ten minutes. 

If nothing else, at least the Goddamn distance would be closed. Maybe Greg would tell him he never wanted to talk about it again, and that would be alright. So long as they didn’t have to exist like this anymore. 

***

The first several minutes were quiet. Greg kept his hands jammed in his coat pockets and Tom wasn’t sure where he was leading them until he looked up and discovered he’d led them to the neighborhood playground, where he used to play as a kid. He had fond memories of his father pushing him on the swings, and one not so fond memory of falling off the monkey bars when he was in second grade. 

“Want to sit?” Greg asked, nodding towards a bench. The park was empty this early, especially given the chilly weather, so it was unlikely anybody would even notice them there. 

“So,” Tom said, when they settled down, “Tell me the truth. About what made you so upset. I’m fucking dying over here Greg. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know,” Greg frowned and looked at his hands in his lap. He twisted his wedding band, probably to give his hands something to do. Tom remembered the one time Greg had left his wedding band in the bathroom when he was getting ready, and came all the way home from fucking _uptown_ rather than go the day without it. He called Greg every name in the book for how dumb it was and made sure Greg knew it was a waste of time, but then sobbed about it to Mondale after Greg left. Not that Greg would ever be allowed to _know_ about that, “I know you didn’t man.”

“Will you tell me? What was it that made you like this? I don’t want to do it again. If you don’t want kids Greg, we don’t have to have them. I didn’t mean to make you hate me over it.”

“Tom, I obviously don’t fucking hate you.”

Tom fell quiet. Greg wasn’t really one to get angry. But this was _almost_ there. Almost. 

“Sorry,” Greg quickly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, “I don’t hate you.”

“I sure hope not.”

“I like kids Tom, you know that. I love your family and all the kids. I mean, like, I don’t know if I would want them _now_ but like, maybe if we had a real house one day, or something like that, it would be nice. But I don’t think that I _could_ have kids.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I don’t know, like, I don’t know how I would live with myself if my kid ever felt the way I feel about my dad about me. And I’m too scared of becoming like him to risk it.”

“Oh,” Tom said, and pulled Greg against him. They were usually ones to avoid any sort of public affection. Tom didn’t like the idea that someone could see them, but the fact that Greg was so upset took precedent in his brain just then. Greg was shaking a bit in his arms, and maybe crying. He couldn’t tell because of how muffled it was against Tom’s own jacket, “It’s alright honey.”

It was the first time the distance between them was gone since Tom had brought the subject up the other night. And he hated how upset Greg had to be for it to happen. He let Greg sob, and didn’t say anything. He couldn’t actually ever remember seeing Greg cry before. Tear up sure. With some frequency, but mostly at sappy movies and TV shows. This was not the same as that.

“Hey,” he muttered, pulling back a bit. He brushed a thumb across Greg’s damp cheek, “I’ve told you before. You are _not_ your father. I understand-”

“You don’t though,” Greg interrupted, “Dude, your dad is fucking awesome. He loves you.”

“Your father loves you,” Tom said firmly.

But Greg only shrugged, “Sure maybe he does. But like, my point is that I don’t know, like, _how_ I would be a parent because my dad wasn’t even really there, and when he was, he was just annoyed with me. And like, I love my mom, and she loves me, but I don’t think she ever really _got_ me. I don’t think I was ever really what she wanted me to be. Especially when I was older and should have, like, been the fucking CEO already. I think maybe that’s just, like, the Roy way, but I don’t know.”

“But Greg you’re _not_ a Roy. And you’re _not_ your parents. I’ve seen you with kids Greg. You’re basically a freakishly tall child yourself. They trust you because you’re one of them.”

“Still.”

“Look,” Tom sighed, “I’m not going to fucking _force_ you to want children. That’d be shitty of me. But don’t think for even a second that your shit dad would make _you_ a shit dad.”

“He told me all the time I’d never be good at anything.”

Once again, Tom was seized by the need to stalk Greg’s father on the Internet, and show up at his house to tell him exactly what he thought of him in no uncertain terms. Probably he could hire someone to do it for him, and he wouldn’t need to get his hands dirty, but somethings had to be done yourself. And sometimes those things included telling your father in law that he could go to hell. That he could fuck right off. 

But it was just a silly thought. There were more important things, like helping Greg feel better than fantasizing about checking names off his shit list.

“I think that it’s _deeply_ unfair the way that you were treated by your father when you were growing up,” Tom said, even though he knew that was obvious. Sometimes, though, it was nice to hear the obvious, “And it makes me fucking sick to my stomach that you think you’re not capable because of it. You’re a dumbass Greg. I won’t ever let you forget that, but you’re not a disappointment. You would be a good dad and do you know how I know that?”

“No.”

“Because you know what your dad did to you, and you would never do it. I know you Greg. I do. And I know you would _never_ treat your child like that. How do I make you understand this?”

“I don’t know. I just, don’t you like, inherit your parents shit? Like how do I ensure I won’t treat my kid like they inherently suck.”

Tom sighed, “It’s been a long time since your father actually parented you. I’d imagine it’s worn off by now.”

That was not how things worked, true, but Greg would understand what he meant anyway. He smiled weakly at Tom’s words.

“It’s already established you won’t run off on them, so you can remove that for your concerns,” Tom continued, “Mostly because your signature is on a very important piece of paper called a prenuptial and you get in trouble if you do.”

“I wouldn’t do that anyway,” Greg said, “Like, why would I do that when I’m literally married to the best of the best.”

“Shut up,” Tom shook his head, “Don’t be disgusting like that this early in the morning. You’re feeling like shit and you’re still being gross and romantic?”

Tom hoped that he could blame his blush on the cold. He gave Greg’s hand a squeeze. 

“Better?” Tom asked, “I don’t know how to make you realize that you’re not your dad Greg. That you look like him, and you maybe have some of his habits, but your dad isn’t a good dad, didn’t treat you like you deserved, but I know you wouldn’t do that. I’m not trying to talk you into kids. I promise that’s not it.”

“I know. I just, like, I know I have to work on it.”

“But I’d like to raise a kid or two with you dumbass. I really would.”

“Me too,” Greg said, and laughed, though it was the kind of laugh you did when you were still half crying. But Tom would take what he could get. A half sob, half laugh, was better than nothing. 

He took Tom’s face in his hands and kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> there's definitely more i can do with this mostly because tom v the pta parents makes me absolutely unhinged and i am desperate to see it, so it's possible this will be expanded in the future!


End file.
